


This might hurt, but i don't care, this is heaven.

by me_inbetween



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternative Universe - Opera, M/M, Pianist Harold Finch, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:40:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27634897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/me_inbetween/pseuds/me_inbetween
Summary: John is ex-military and just started a new job as a night guard for the opera. On his first shift alone, he finds a mysterious man playing the grand piano in the concert hall. He's intrigued, who is the smaller man und why is he playing the piano all by himself in the middle of the night?
Relationships: Harold Finch & Nathan Ingram, Harold Finch/John Reese
Comments: 27
Kudos: 30





	1. Overture

**Author's Note:**

> Well hello. This is my first attempt at writing in a very very long time. I've been reading so much in this fandom and this idea has been ghosting through my head for weeks now. So I figured, time for me to actually try and write it, a lockdown due to high infection numbers in my country has me home from work for 3 weeks at the least, so it's now or never, I guess.  
> I'm open to CC if you have any. Also, english is not my first language, so if there's something thats wrong, kindly let me know.

The Metropolitan Opera stood proud before him. The big arches made for an almost intimidating impression. The sun was already going down, dipping everything in a subtle golden glow and creating an ethereal atmosphere. Working in an opera house wasn’t really where John would have seen himself, if someone had asked him a few years earlier. He’d been in the military for so long, the finer arts might have been lost on him if it hadn’t been for his mother. She was the one who taught him about music. Playing the piano herself, John always thought she might have been disappointed, when he chose to walk the Army path like his father had done.

*

His parents really had tried to make it work, but in the end, being the stay-at-home Wife to an Army General had been too much for his mother. They stayed amicable, if only for John’s sake, but he always had a good relationship with his dad, who would regularly send money to support them. When he died in the line of duty when John was 11, his life changed. Things got more difficult for him and his mother then, because a divorced Army wife would not receive a widow's pension of course. John's memories of his teenage years were mostly about his mom struggling with everything: putting food on the table, providing school supplies, coming up with money for school trips, everything was difficult. 

Not everything was bad though. Music was always a big part of their life together and John especially remembered one afternoon in fall, when he was 14. His mom had taken on a job as a piano teacher and students would often be at their house, when John came home from school. On this particular day, a student had cancelled at the last minute and unexpectedly his mom had some time to spend with her son. They spent the afternoon at the piano together, his mom playing him one of Beethoven's piano sonatas. The boy sat at her side, watching her elegant fingers flying over the keys and they talked about the feelings the music invoked in him. From this day on, once every week they would find time together at the piano. Though it not being a very typical way to spend free time for a teenage boy, John really loved these quiet moments. They left him with a deep appreciation for classical music and a very soft spot for Beethoven, that stayed with him his whole adult life. 

By the time he finished high school, the young man had dealt with living relatively poor for a long time. Seeing his mother struggle her way through life with a more artistic career, his decision to join the Army seemed like the only viable option. He would not have been able to afford college anyway. He did some tours as a soldier, got recruited into the Rangers and by the time he was 38, John was honorably discharged after a gunshot wound in his right thigh, that wouldn’t quite heal right. Coming back to ordinary life and finding a job after a military career proved to be difficult. But when he saw the night guard position for the Metropolitan Opera in the newspaper, he simply could not resist applying. 

*

John looked up to the lights in the giant arches in the windows and took a deep breath. His first week had mostly been just for orientation; his supervisor showing him around the building. John had spent some time familiarizing himself with the electronic security system, the various obvious and hidden entrances of the building and the long and labyrinthine corridors of the backstage area. Today would finally be his first actual shift. As he walked through the artist entrance, a cheerful voice yelled: “Jonny, did you bring me coffee? And more importantly, did you bring coffee for yourself? First shift alone, you nervous?”  
Albert, one of the guards working the day shift, had already taken a liking to him. John thought he must be in his sixties, probably had been a beat cop before he went into the security business. He seemed to like donuts, a good coffee and the latest gossip.  
“Sorry Albert, no coffee, I was running a little late, thought I’d try to make it on time for my first real work night,'' John said with a tiny smirk on his face. “I guess, I can see the logic in that,” huffed the older man, “better luck next time.” 

At 7pm John started his shift and took over from Albert. With a pat on his shoulder and some encouraging words, the ex-cop left him to it. John started a perimeter walk and checked all entrances. Rehearsal would be over around 9, after that only he and the janitor should be in the building. He made himself a coffee, had a little snack and then sat in his booth at the exit, watching the musicians leave. Once the conductor and all stage technicians had left, he locked up and started to make his rounds in the big opera building.

It took John almost an hour to walk all the corridors and rooms. The only thing left to do before returning to his desk was to check the concert hall. As he came closer, he thought he heard something, was it a piano? Pushing open one of the smaller doors at the side of the auditorium, John stepped silently into the room. Everything was dark except for some small spots in the stage. On the left side of the stage, out of the way of the seating arrangements for the orchestra stood a shiny grand piano. On its bench sat a man and played. John quietly moved, enchanted by the soft notes and the mysterious man who brought them to life.  
The pianist was smaller with a slight build, his brown hair was in an almost tin tin like haircut and his nimble finger moved over the keys effortlessly. He had his eyes closed while playing a melody so full of emotions, so sad but so rich, it seemed a little otherworldly. John didn’t make a sound, couldn’t bring himself to interrupt the wonderful music, frozen on the spot.


	2. Introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harold dreams of blue eyes and makes a bold move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A répétiteur is a skilled piano player, who accompanies singers, choirs, dancers etc. for solos or replacing an orchestra for the duration of a rehearsal. He can also act a coach for pitch and intonation. He needs strong skills in sight-reading, score reading and interpretation in order to adapt easily to every situation.  
> 

“Harold. Harold! Are you even listening to me?” His friend's slightly raised voice seemed to startle him out of his thoughts. He had to admit, he felt terribly rude drifting off like that. 

“Mh? Oh, yes certainly, I’m sorry Nathan,” he said. And with that he found himself back in the real world. The little café near the opera was almost empty now that the lunch rush hour was over. He turned his attention back to his tea and his companion, who looked like he couldn’t decide if he was annoyed or amused.  
“Where is your mind today? I’ve rarely ever seen you this distracted. Want to tell me, what has gotten in your head, Harold?”, Nathan inquired. 

“It’s nothing really, I simply did not sleep very well last night.”

“Oh please! I know how you look, when you’re sleep deprived. No, this is different. Are you gonna tell me or do I have to go investigate on my own.” Nathan had that determined look on his face, that Harold knew would sooner or later make him spill the beans anyway. He might as well go for it and save them both the little dance that would otherwise follow. 

“Well, if you must know, there's someone I can't quite get out of my head. It’s that new night guard that started 3 weeks ago. Every time I walk past his desk, he looks up at me with those incredibly blue eyes. It’s like he knows some secret that I am unaware of”, he states, his expression tinted with equal notes of frustration and wonder. And to hopefully change the subject again immediately, he added: “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll have to get back to work.” With that, he took a stand and turned to leave for the door.

Nathan looked absolutely delighted, when he caught up with him in the big plaza in front of the opera. “Oh, you mean Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome? That is quite a snack I must admit. The salt and pepper hair, the uniform.. Are you gonna talk to him? Because if you won’t, maybe I will try my luck.” 

“Why are we friends? You’re not even interested in men, Nathan!” And with that, he escaped his friends' inquiries and vanished into the long halls.

*

Hours laters at home on the bench of his old piano, Harold was still mulling over that conversation with his best friend in his head. Of course Nathan would see right through him, nothing ever got past him. But to be fair, this was quite an extraordinary situation. The new guard had caught his eye right on the first day, with his good looks and his professional attitude. A lot of the guards assigned to the opera did not take their job very seriously; eating on duty, leaving their post for hours and it even happened from time to, that unauthorized people slipped inside and bothered the musicians. But the new night guard not only seemed to take his job seriously, he was also very good at it. Harold couldn’t help but wonder, what his story was. He did not really seem to belong in the artistic atmosphere of an opera.

For the first week, it seemed like the new guy hardly noticed the individual people that came by his desk. Of course he was still in training then, having his supervisor hover over him the entire time. However in the second week, it was like a switch was flipped. Nothing escaped those icy blue eyes. Harold had the distinct feeling that he was actively keeping a watch out for him, only to look away the moment the older man walked by the desk. Maybe he would actually have to start talking to him, just to cut through some of the tension that lay inexplicably between them somehow. 

Frustrated with himself, Harold tried to turn his attention back to his practice. He needed to study some of the more difficult passages in the 2nd movement of the symphony they’d be working on for the next few days. After all, the premiere was only a couple of weeks away and as a répétiteur, he needed to be able to lead the soloists through their parts effortlessly. With a few deep breaths he tried to cleanse his mind and let the music flow into him. 

In the night, his dreams were filled with blue eyes, strong arms and a melody he had not thought about for a very long time. 

*

After spending an easy morning in the company of his current book outside in a lovely park near his home, the afternoon brought Harold to the opera for a rehearsal with the lead soprano. After stepping out around 6pm for some fresh tea, when he returned he could see the new guard settling into his position to start his shift. Coming closer, his resolve only grew stronger. “Here goes nothing, I suppose”, he thought. 

“Hello,” he said to the guard with an unsure smile, “I do apologize for only introducing myself just now. Welcome to the Opera. I’m Harold.”  
As a reward for this, by his standards, pretty bold move, instead of an answer he got a surprised look from impossibly blue eyes. The seconds Harold counted as an appropriate response time to his little speech ticked away. He already started to regret his introduction, feeling stupid and like he overstepped, when the guards face lit up with what looked like recognition.  
“Oh, I’m sorry. To be honest, you are the first of the musicians to actually talk to me. Took me a moment to realize, you were really addressing me.” He offered him an apologetic half smile and continued, “My name is John. Pleasure meeting you, Harold.”

“No need to worry, John. And the pleasure is all mine.” And with a nod, he made his escape to his practice room. There really was no need for John to see the slight shiver that went down his back, when John had spoken his name with his dark, husky voice.


	3. 3rd Movement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John makes an inquiry, the concert hall is a magical place and Harold agrees to tea in the park.

The exchange left John casually stunned behind his desk. The last thing he had expected was the smaller man actually coming up to him. He usually looked so shy. Now that he had a chance to talk to him, John was taken by his soft voice and the clear, articulate way he spoke. Since that one night on his first shift alone, he had not found Harold in the concert hall again. And although that made his job considerably easier, he had felt a little twist of disappointment every time he opened the room in anticipation only to find it pitch black instead. 

After doing it for 3 weeks now, John had decided he liked his new job. It was not particularly challenging or calling for a lot of the skills he had acquired in the Army or the Rangers. But the atmosphere of artistic creativity, the muffled melodies and impressive voices that constantly drifted through the building, were so peaceful in their own way, he couldn’t help but feel a little at home. It reminded him of his mom and more than once, he suddenly felt transported back to a time in their tiny living room, to afternoons spent on a piano bench together. It left him wistful and content at the same time. Maybe there was a place for him outside of the military after all. 

John found himself staring into thin air, when Albert walked by his desk, clocking out for the night. The older man had an amused smile on his face. Deciding, he needed to make some inquiries, John turned to him and asked: “Albert, the smaller man with the round little glasses and the spiky brown hair, Harold.. What exactly does he do here?” 

Alberts brows shot up in surprise. “You mean Mr. Finch? He’s the répétiteur here. He’s been with the opera so many years, I think he was here even before me. Basically he’s part of the inventory, I guess. Why, is he giving you a hard time?”

“Oh no, not at all, I’m just curious. I’ve been trying to memorize all the regulars and their positions, that’s all. Thanks Albert, you have a good night!”

“Alright Johnny, you just let me know if I need to have a word with him”, and with that he left.

*

John spent the beginning of his shift at his desk and after rehearsals had wrapped up, he made his rounds. When he was certain that all exits had been secured, he made his way through the corridors. And after almost 2 weeks of absolute quiet, when he came closer to the concert hall he heard the sounds of the grand piano floating towards him.  
Almost without thinking about it, John slipped into the auditorium and took a seat in one of the middle rows, mesmerized by the dark and melancholic melody wafting through the huge room. On the bench sat Harold, eyes closed and completely lost in his music. Now that John knew he was a répétiteur, the scene made even less sense to him. Seeing Harold up there on the stage in the light of a soft spot, he gave the impression of a famous pianist rather than someone who tirelessly worked behind the scenes, never to be acknowledged by an audience. 

While he sat there, listening and contemplating, the music got more momentum. What had been soft and sad tones just a minute ago now turned into a more energetic but no less dramatic melody. And just as the theme steadily climbed towards a climax, Harold's hand seemed to slip producing some ill-fitted clusters followed by a low muttered curse.  
John must have made a startled sound, because Harold's eyes flew open, immediately finding his tall figure in the auditorium. In the light of the spot, they shined with something that could have been unshed tears. 

Caught in that stare like a deer in the headlights, John just sat there unable to move. He was too far away to read the emotions in the older man’s face. After what felt like an eternity, Harold averted his gaze, turned back to the piano, closed the cover over the keys and stood to walk away. How long John kept sitting in the empty hall, he really could not have said.

*

They never talked about what in John's head was now known as “the Incident”. In fact, they hardly talked at all. The days went by without any significance. Harold was still politely greeting him every time he entered or exited the building, usually for his favorite beverage. By now, John had deduced, that it was not coffee but tea that he preferred. So, gathering his courage on a regular Thursday evening, John waved the man over when he walked by his desk. 

“Harold! I was wondering, would you.. That is, uhm, can I treat you to a cup of tea tomorrow before my shift starts?” The words tumbled out of his mouth, not at all with the grace and confidence he had tried for. But it was all worth it for the shy smile that spread across the other man's face. “I would be delighted, John. Shall we meet here at around 4:30?”

*

On Friday John did not come in with his uniform but in dark Jeans, a simple black t-shirt and a very worn, soft leather jacket, to pick Harold up for his tea break. The smaller man joined him outside with an appraising look and a crooked smirk on his face. For early fall, the weather was quite mild so they decided to get coffee and tea (Sencha green, one sugar) at a little cart and take a walk towards the park. Harold seemed nice and cozy in a fine woolen coat over his usual three-piece suit and a scarf, that looked like cashmere. Briefly John wondered, what that scarf would feel like under his hands, but banned the thought out of his head with a little shake. He was getting way ahead of himself. The gesture brought him an inquiring look from under Harolds round little glasses. 

“So John, what brings you to the opera? I hope I’m not overstepping any boundaries, but you seem like you belong in an entirely different setting.”

“No, you’re not wrong. I’ve been a soldier all my life, I fought and I protected, but the finer arts have not been a part of my life for a long time. It was only after I left the Army behind me that I remembered. My mother was a very musical person, so when this job came up, I simply could not resist”, John supplied with a little shrug. 

“I see. Well, allow me to say that at any rate I’m very glad you found your way into our fine establishment.”

Who even talked like that? John couldn’t help but be completely enamoured by Harold's choice of vocabulary. Conversation flowed easily between the two men while they made their way through the park. Somehow, with Harold’s gentle encouragement John talked about his time in the Army and the Rangers, his upbringing and his mothers love for music. The smaller man had a way of intensely focused listening that made John feel special and seen in a way he’d never experienced before. In return, Harold explained to John, what his job actually entailed. By the time the pair exited the park, the sun was almost gone and John had to hurry to make it in time for his shift. 

Before going up to the stage entrance, Harold turned to John with an enigmatic smile. “Thank you very much for the tea, John. I had a great time. I suppose I'll see you later?”

And sure enough, when after rehearsals John made his round through the empty opera house, the door to the great hall was slightly ajar. Stepping inside, John made sure to clear his throat before settling down into one of the cushy chairs, watching Harold play the piano for his audience of one.  
Only then did it occur to him that while they had spoken a lot of John's origins, he was still none the wiser about Harold's journey and how he ended up here.


	4. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harold has drinks with Nathan and a lovely Saturday afternoon with John.

“You know, I rather think we have talked enough about work for now. I’m aware that the premiere is in 2 weeks, but really, there has to be other topics in our repertoire”, Harold huffed. Wednesday night had the two friends sitting in their favorite bar with a glass of scotch for Nathan and a nice red wine for Harold. Between Nathan being the musical director and Harold practically living for the opera, their evening so far had consisted of nothing but shop talk.

“Yeah, you’re right”, the other man conceded. “Allow me to change the topic then. How are things going with your young crush?” 

“I’ll have you know, that we are merely 8 years apart. That hardly makes me his sugar daddy”, Harold bit back with a subtle air of annoyance. He knew full well that Nathan loved nothing more than to ruffle his feathers a bit, see what would shake loose. They had been friends for some 20 years by now so it was nothing new to him. Lucky for Nathan, for once the smaller man was actually willing to discuss his love life.

His friend let out an amused chuckle, “Alright, so tell me about him then. What’s he like?”  
“Well, for one, ever since our date in the park, he keeps a cup of Sencha at his desk, complete with the sugar. Impossibly it is perfect every single time. He said he’d rather I spend my break there then go out alone after dark. His protective streak is a mile long and I have not yet decided if I’m a fan.”

“What, Harold, are you kidding me? That is down right adorable. So, let me get this straight, he memorized your tea order, that no one ever gets right, from that one little date as you call it”, Nathan actually bothered to mimic some mock quotation marks with his hands, “and you’re not sure, if you like that? That guy is so into you, I can’t believe you.”

Harold shrugged, “You might be right, but as you know, I like to make my own decisions, I’m a..”  
“A very private person, yes. I’m aware, Harold”, Nathan interrupted, “And what about your weird nightly piano sessions, is that still going?”

“Well, it’s not like we ever really talked about that, but yes, whenever it fit my schedule I put in some time on the stage. And every single time, John has been there sitting, listening patiently like it’s the best part of his night. It is quite endearing really”, he admits.

Nathan rolled his eyes and groaned. “Please tell me, you’re asking him out on another date, Harold. A real one this time? You’re so obviously into each other, it hurts.”

*

Which is why on Thursday Harold found himself in front of John’s desk with a nervous expression on his face. The tall man’s gently raised eyebrow encouraged him to say his piece. “John, I was wondering whether you are working on Saturday? Because if not, I would like to take you out on a date.”  
John's features shifted from apprehensive to absolutely delighted at his words. “Sure Harold. It would be my pleasure.”

*

In the early afternoon on Saturday, Harold waited impatiently at the steps in front of the Met. Of course, he was early but he had simply been too excited to stay at home any longer. He could not wait to show John his favorite exhibitions. And while he was well aware that he was anything but forthcoming with information about his life in general and his past in particular, sharing his love for art with someone he was fond of seemed like a good way to start. 

As John elegantly strode up the stairs to meet him, Harold could not help but think he was a sight for sore eyes. In slate grey dress pants, a bright white shirt and a blue v-neck sweater, the younger man looked delectable. A heavy woolen overcoat completed the ensemble.  
Suddenly Harold was unsure how to greet this graceful creature without making a fool of himself. But before he could really stress about it, John was at his side. With a soft “Hello Harold” he bent down to put a chaste kiss on his cheek only to turn his head away as if shocked by his own courage. 

“John. You look lovely”, Harold said. “I hope you don’t mind an afternoon at the museum? It’s one of my favorite past times.”  
John made a little hand wave as if to wipe away his concerns. “Not at all, I’m glad you decided to show me something that brings you joy. Please lead the way”, and he offered him his arm. As Harold took it, he thought that this might be a problem. He’d never want to let go again. 

The two men made their way through the exhibitions with Harold being the tour guide and John the attentive listener. Their conversation covered art, music, John’s preference for a good action movie and Harold's inclination to eat ice cream in fall and winter. By the time they were through the exhibits and stood at the exit of the huge museum building with their coats in hands, both men seemed hesitant. And before Harold could even think of what to say, John took the decision from him.  
“What do you say we get you an ice cream cone and take a little stroll through the park?”

*

With a vanilla cone in hand wandering through the park with a handsome man, Harold couldn’t quite believe his luck. The afternoon had been like a dream, easy, light and entirely charming, and judging by the smile on John’s face, he wasn’t the only one who thought so. There was something lurking in the back of his mind though, that soured the mood for him. The tremor in his right hand he’d been having since the accident had been quite apparent when John had handed him his ice cream earlier. He had expected questions about it, it was what people tended to do once they noticed it. John however defied all expectations and did not say a word about it, leaving the decision to talk about it entirely up to him. Near a bandstand they stopped to say their goodbyes. Harold felt slightly untethered.

“John, there is something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about. You see, I’m a very private person. It takes me time to trust and to let new people into my life. I’m well aware of the fact that I have not shared a lot of personal details about me with you. I wanted to thank you for your patience so far, you have been exceptional. And while I wanna open up to you very much, I might need some more time. So if you could find it in you to..”  
But he was interrupted, by cool lips brushing softly over his. Before he even had time to reciprocate, John withdrew again.  
“Harold, you don’t need to say any more. You’re special to me and I expect it will take nothing less than my full attention to earn a place in your life. In the meantime, if it’s alright with you, I would like to kiss you, for real this time”, John whispered near his ear and Harold felt a shiver going down his neck. 

“Certainly, John. That seems like a wonderful idea.”


	5. High point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's premiere day at the opera.

Setting one foot in front of the other in a hurried rhythm, John was making his way through the streets near his apartment, hoping the fast run would clear his mind and burn away some of his tension. He was in a very confusing state between frustrated and completely smitten. It had been over a week since their date and the kiss in the park and he had not gotten a single minute alone with Harold after that. The other man was on his mind constantly and he had a hard time concentrating on anything outside of his duty at the opera. 

Premiere day was approaching fast and had turned the usually quiet and calm building into something of a madhouse. Apparently, one of the violinists had dropped out of the ensemble last minute due to a family emergency and left utter chaos in her wake. Harold had spent the better part of last week finding a suitable substitute and then had been tasked with bringing said replacement up to speed. His work hours seemed to never end and while they had planned to see each other on Sunday, in the end Harold had been too exhausted to meet up.

John had tried very hard not to sound disappointed, because of course he understood and wanted to be supportive. Harold must have sensed his mood over the phone anyway, when he called to cancel. “I’m terribly sorry, dear. This week has been extraordinarily taxing. I trust you’ll let me make it up to you?” he had said in his soft voice and John had all but melted.

The only thing that had stayed a constant over the last week was the tea break Harold would take at John’s desk every evening. It was on one of those breaks that Harold had told him how he was planning to make up for their missed Sunday. And while John’s very enthusiastic imagination had already provided a number of scenarios, Harold's proposition still took him by surprise. The older man had asked John to accompany him to the premiere on Friday evening. Apparently his supervisor had already agreed to change some shifts around.

So after his run, instead of getting in his work uniform John took his tuxedo out of the closet, wondering when was the last time he had worn it. The day before he had made his way into a mens fashion atelier to find a fitting bow tie to go with the ensemble. He had settled for classic black but velvet as a twist. Harold was usually so meticulous about his clothing and John needed to step up his game if he was going to be seen with him. His neck prickled with a nervous kind of anticipation all through taking a shower, getting dressed and on the way over to Harold's place. The other man had agreed to be picked up at his home. 

John was feeling slightly ridiculous when he took the last few steps up to Harold's door. His stomach felt like a cageful of butterflies. “Watch out for the dangerously lethal army Ranger on your front door, complete with the weak knees”, he thought, while ringing the bell.  
He heard some shuffling inside, then the door opened and Harold stood in front of him. His breath caught at the sight of his date. The suit he was wearing must have been tailored because it hugged his figure way too nicely to be off the rack. Complete with a silky scarf in a deep red paisley he looked good enough to eat. “Harold”, was all he got out. Smooth.

“Good evening, John. I’m almost ready, I just need to get my coat. It’s cold tonight, would you care to step inside for a second?” The innocent little blush on the tips of his ears was adorable.

“Yes, thank you”, he said, while entering into Harold’s foyer. The other man closed the door behind him and when he turned back around, they found themselves almost nose to nose.  
“You look very handsome tonight, Harold.”  
“So do you, dear. I like your bow tie”, Harold said, his voice a little breathy. John just could not resist, he pulled the smaller man closer and took his face in his hands. Slowly, giving Harold time to object, he moved in for a kiss. When their lips touched, Harold made a content little noise that felt like home and John all but forgot anything else but the contact between the two of them.

When they reluctantly moved apart for air, still holding Harold’s face, he laid their foreheads together and sighed. “I’ve missed you.”  
Harold took one of his hands in his and laid it across his heart. “I missed you too, John, terribly so. But as much as I enjoy this right here, I’m afraid we need to get going, otherwise we’ll be late and I’d hate to miss the beginning.”

The cab ride seemed to John like it took forever but simultaneously it was not nearly long enough because Harold had taken his hand over the middle seat. For all he cared, they could have just stayed in the taxi for the evening.

*

The opening night for “Le Nozze di Figaro” had transformed the huge building into a space that was buzzing with anticipation and excitement. After dropping their coats off at the checkroom the pair went to get a drink. When the bell rang they moved to find their seats in the concert hall. John didn’t really understand how Harold had managed to get him the seat he used to sit in for their nightly piano time, but he didn’t care. It sent a wave of fondness over him and when he squeezed the older man's hand in acknowledgement, Harold pressed a tiny kiss on his cheek. 

When the curtain was raised and the first notes of the overture drifted through the room, John felt an overwhelming storm of emotions. This was so obviously Harold's world but it seemed like it was his now too. The music washed over him and while the plot unfolded on stage, John saw pictures of his mum at her tiny old piano in their living room in front of his eyes. It had been a while since he had thought about her. Her death had taken him by surprise and he had never quite forgiven himself for not being there for her in the end. When she passed, he was halfway across the globe on some rescue mission he could not even remember anymore. John’s attention snapped back to the present, when Harold put a hand on his cheek in the dark. His thumb wiped away a lonely tear. 

“Are you alright, dear?” he asked softly.

“Yeah sorry, I got carried away a little there”, John whispered, leaning closer to Harold's ear. 

“There is no reason to apologize, John. Music is a mysterious thing that will take you to places you didn’t even know you remembered.. It’s why I’m still here.”

The last part had been said so quietly, John wasn’t sure Harold had meant to say it out loud, so instead of an answer he took the other man's hand in his and just held it.

*

The evening went by way too fast for John’s liking. He reveled in being so close to Harold for an extended amount of time. When the lights turned back on, his body was tingling with the sense of Harold's proximity. 

Stepping outside in the cold autumn air was refreshing and sobering at the same time. Harold took a step closer, huddling for warmth and John put his arm around him, to keep him close. He pressed a kiss to his temple and murmured in his hair, “Thank you for the lovely evening.”

“The pleasure was all mine John. However I must admit I’d rather hoped the evening wasn’t over just yet”

“Harold!”, he gasped, surprised. “What did you have in mind?”

*

When they stepped back into Harold’s home, John was more than a little curious. He definitely had not expected to be invited back to the older man’s apartment.  
After hanging up their coats, he found Harold in the kitchen. He turned around, the kitchen counter in his back.

“Would you like a drink, John?”

“No thank you. I’d rather have my wits about for this”, John said and went in for a kiss. He backed them up slowly against the counter. Harold let out a barely contained moan and opened his lips for him.  
When they emerged after what could have been minutes or hours ,Harold’s hands were in his hair, messing it up. And while one of John’s hands gently cradled the other man’s neck, his other hand had found its way under Harold’s suit jacket. They were both out of breath.

“So what now?”, he inquired breathily.

“I don’t want to be too forward, but would you want to spend the night, dear? To sleep, mostly”, Harold said, a blush creeping up his neck and a shy uncertainty in his voice.


	6. Encore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After their date, they talk, among other things.

Harold woke up to the morning light sifting through the blinds. For a brief moment he felt disoriented, as he was usually awake way before the sun set each day. But then the evening came back into his mind and suddenly the heavy weight on his waist made a lot more sense. John was lying behind him, his naked chest pressed to Harold’s back, their legs entangled and his left arm slung across him, holding him tight. 

Not ready to move just yet, Harold thought back to their nightly activities. After moving to his bedroom, they had undressed unhurriedly, finding pleasure in just touching. Finally in bed and under the covers, he had been stunned with the intimacy of the moment. But courageous John had closed the distance between them and pulled him into a searing kiss. The blanket had soon been way too warm and well, if between the two of them they both had found some relief after all, a gentleman wouldn’t tell. They had agreed to take it slow and shelved the actual intercourse for some time in the future. No matter, because when Harold had fallen asleep in John’s arms, he felt a deep satisfaction and contentedness. 

Behind him John stirred as the rays of light had reached his face now too. Harold shifted in his arms so he could now face the younger man. 

“Good morning, darling”, he softly said, when John cracked his eyes open. 

A slow and open smile lit up John’s face. “Good morning. Sleep well?” 

“I honestly can not remember the last time I have slept this soundly, John. Thank you for an incredible night, dear.”

At that, John’s eyes sparkled and he nuzzled his nose into the older man’s neck, took a deep breath and let it out with a content sigh. Harold put his arms around him and they stayed like that for a while. 

*

“It was an accident”, Harold said. 

“Mh?”

“The tremor in my hand, it appeared after an accident I had.”

“Harold, you don’t have to talk about this. You know that, right? I don’t need to know”, John tried to reassure him. 

“I know, John. That’s part of the reason I want to tell you. You have been so patient and so kind and trusting, knowing next to nothing about me. But I want you to know! I want you to know me.” His voice had become a little exasperated at the end. 

“Alright, then tell me. I’m here, I won’t judge and I won’t go anywhere, ok?” John said calmly and tightened his arms just the tiniest bit around him. 

Harold took a deep breath then and collected his thoughts.

“It’s been 16 years since the accident. I was 30 at the time and before all of this happened I was on my way to become a concert pianist for the New York Philharmonic. I even had a contract drawn up already, that was supposed to start in the spring. Obviously I had been practising night and day to make sure my new employers would not regret their decision to hire me.”

John gave him an encouraging squeeze.

“The night of the accident I was travelling to meet Nathan at his parents home for the holidays. It was late and I had spent an entire day hunched over a piano. I was already exhausted when I left New York. So I was in my rusty old car on the highway, I still remember I had a recording of Beethoven's 3rd Piano Sonata in the player. And then, all of a sudden, another car came out of nowhere on my right side. He swayed heavily towards me and I tried to avoid a crash, but in my tired state of mind I must have pulled on the steering wheel way too hard. My car went straight into the crash barrier. From there I don’t recall anything until I woke up in the hospital several hours later. By the time I came to Nathan was there.”

Harold took a deep breath in and out and John put long soothing strokes on his back.

“The doctor told me I had a concussion, a broken arm and shattered hand. He said, I had been relatively lucky considering the circumstances of my crash. As it turned out it was the hand that sealed my fate. It never quite healed right and after several surgeries and months of physical therapy, I had to accept that a permanent tremor and general unreliability in fine motor skills were forever going to stay with me. By that time my contract had obviously long been terminated and I was left with an education for a job I could no longer do. I tried teaching for a while and hated every second of it. It was only when Nathan made me apply for the répétiteur position that I won back some of my love for music and a sense of purpose.” 

And with that, a tension left his shoulders he did not know he was holding. 

“Thank you for telling me”, John softly murmured into his neck after a while. “I can’t imagine how difficult that must have been for you but I will admit I’m glad you are where you are now. I would have never met you otherwise.”  
Harold let out a huffed chuckle and pressed a kiss to John's head. “You’re the first person I have ever told that story, you know? Obviously Nathan knows. But in 16 years, not a single person came close enough for me to be willing to share this. And here you are, tall and gorgeous and entirely too charming for your own good and I spill all my secrets after a night between the sheets.”

John laid back on the pillow and fixed Harold with twinkling eyes and a smug smile. “Well, that simply won’t do”, Harold thought and leaned over to bit that smile of his lips.

*

Much later, sitting at Harold’s kitchen table with a stack of pancakes between them, Harold could not help but wonder, how his life had become so much fuller in just a few weeks. John was wearing boxers and his undershirt from the night before. He was about to lean over to steal another kiss, when his front door swung open with a clash and Nathan's full baritone boomed through the flat.   
“Harold, rise and shine! I need to hear exactly everything about your date last night. I need details, you know my own love life is so dea…”   
He burst through the kitchen doorway, halting at the sight of the two and then a slow smile spread on his face.   
“You sly dog! Took him home, did you!”

And while Harold put his head between his hands in an attempt to vanish on the spot, John just seemed all the more amused.

“What can I say, Nathan. When I meet a reclusive piano genius, I make my move”, he laughed.

“Good for you! I brought donuts”, Nathan proclaimed while taking an empty seat at the table, seemingly not caring in the slightest about John’s state of undress or Harold’s distress.

Well, this was how it was going to be from now on, he guessed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is it. My first fan fiction. I'm aware, that this is not the height of literary value by a long shot, but I enjoyed myself. I needed something easy with little to no conflict as we are living in weird times right now.   
> Thanks to everyone who commented on the individual chapters (or every single chapter, Thanks Sky!) or left Kudos. It encouraged me a great deal.
> 
> Stay safe and healthy and see you next time one of my ideas desperately wants to be written down.


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